


The Threat Overseas

by fckyeahgallavich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Army Ian AU, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Established Relationship, GGE2017, Gallavich Gift Exchange, Gallavich Gift Exchange 2017, Ian is in the Army, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Make up sex, Smut, Top Ian Gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fckyeahgallavich/pseuds/fckyeahgallavich
Summary: My submission for the Gift Exchange for @megschaos!!! Love ya girl and I hope you enjoy it!! :D <3Prompt: Love, Smut, the connections outside of each other (ie: Mandy, families, etc), domestic!Gallavich is always welcome, established relationship, jealousy/possessiveness is always welcome to the partyDomestic!Gallavich, slice of life, dealing with every day sorts of things - bonus points if it's an AU where Ian can still be in the Army/Armed ForcesJealous sex is great sex - even after a long time in a strong committed relationship - that's still no one else's ass to stare at dammit.





	1. The Threat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MegsChaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegsChaos/gifts).



They had gone almost a month without speaking and Mickey had just started to worry when he  _finally_ got a Skype call from him! All he'd wanted those four weeks was a call, a text, a letter.  _Anything_ to let him know that Ian was alright. Mickey wasn't particularly connected to any family from anyone in his unit or even the general platoon so Mickey was mostly out of the loop if anything was going on. That made his life pretty nerve-wracking. Especially when he had nothing to do. The Rub & Tug got closed about two months ago so he ran numbers for Skinny Mike and only just convinced Kev to let him run the bar a couple of nights a week for an extra $300 a month. He did what he could to pick up shifts at the Alibi, but Kev was usually adamant that the bar earnings remained within his family. With work being pretty slow, Mickey mostly did what he could to keep busy and keep company around him to keep his mind off of whatever was going on overseas. He couldn't even handle watching the news anymore, especially when there had been such a long break since their last conversation.

 

But none of that mattered now because here he was staring, a little teary eyed, at his ginger who was just as silly and beautiful as the last time they spoke.

 

“I'm so sorry it's been so long, babe. We had some tension around here so no one was really allowed to call home for a while.” Ian apologized as soon as Mickey accepted the call. As soon as he got the apology out, though, he gave Mickey that look that screamed love and relief. He looked genuinely happy to see him and Mickey was just happy Ian was okay.

 

“Everything okay now?” He asked, trying to subtly wipe the eye that got a little teary against his will. Ian pretended not to notice and shrugged in response to the question.

 

“I guess as 'okay' as it's going to be for now. We've heightened patrol security so no one can sneak in or some shit.” Ian explained as calmly as he could.

 

“Is that what happened?” Mickey demanded, anxiety flaring high. Ian looked like he regretted saying anything.

 

“Let's not worry about that, we're fine. What have you-”

 

“Nuh-uh, you are  _not_ changing the subject. What the fuck do you mean 'no one can sneak in'? Did someone try that?” Ian looked away from the camera which was answer enough. “No one got hurt?” Ian looked back to the camera so Mickey would know he wasn't hiding anything and promised. Mickey deflated a bit.

 

“So.. what have you-” Ian broke off and turned his back to the camera. Though the sound was muffled, Mickey could hear Ian laughing and saying something like “Aww c'mon fuckers not right now!” Mickey didn't even need to see the douchebag's face to know what was going on. But unfortunately the guy made an appearance anyway. He couldn't see his face but the guy's tag on his uniform was in shot. Why did this guy always have to butt into his time with Ian? That guy got to see his boyfriend more than he did... This was  _his_ time, fuck it all!

 

Mickey couldn't even remember the dickhead's name without the name tag. When he wasn't around Ian, he exclusively referred to him as 'dickhead,' actually. V told him he had nothing to worry about and even Iggy had said something to the same effect once when he'd come home seeing Mickey seething about dickhead butting into a phone call while Ian was still in basic. This guy had been a pain in Mickey's side since Ian had first gone to training.

 

Ian finally turned back around with a breezy smile until he saw Mickey's scowl.

 

“Whoa, you okay?” Mickey had to take a deep breath and remind himself that they always wanted to leave their calls on a happy note. He didn't need to give Ian any reason to think about anything other than his job. Didn't need to be distracted and get killed for it.

 

“Yeah, just waiting for you to finish your question.” Mickey replied smoothly. Ian chuckled at that.

 

“Yeah, sorry, man. You know McKay, always clowning!” Mickey's face didn't shift. Yeah, he didn't want to start a problem, but he was also getting really sick of this. Ian looked down as though finally realizing that Mickey was irritated... and why. Mickey fuckin' hoped so. If Ian figured it out on his own, Mickey wouldn't have to say anything. “What have you been doing? Everything okay at home?” Mickey thought about that question.  _Was_  everything okay at home?

 

“I mean... It'd be better if you were here.” Mickey replied shyly. He hated being all sappy, but he had to let Ian know how much he meant to him without being a total puss about it. The shift in Ian's shoulder made it look like maybe Ian was stroking his face on the monitor. He could almost feel his soft fingers gliding over Mickey's cheek, the thumb gliding over his jaw and going back over where his fingers had just passed.

 

“Just another two months, alright? Then I'll be home for Christmas.” Mickey's lips formed an  _almost_ smile. There was always this anxiety that maybe Ian wouldn't live through to Christmas... And even if it wasn't combat related, there was an airplane crash four months ago that almost gave Mickey a panic attack when he thought about Ian's return home.

 

“Yeah...” Mickey finally responded, biting his lip and looking down at the keyboard.

 

“Mick?” Ian's voice sounded worried.  _Fuck!_ Mickey cursed internally.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you okay? You can tell me...” Ian's voice was so reassuring and his tone so comforting that Mickey almost felt his arms around him, whispering those words in his ear. Mickey suddenly remembered the night before Ian left for deployment. They'd basically spent every waking moment either fucking or visiting family... only to then return to more fucking. During the second to last session, Mickey had surprisingly broken out into tears. It caught them both by surprise and Ian was about to withdraw when Mickey pulled on his hip and told him to keep going. When they were done Ian pulled Mickey's leg over him to have him straddle his lap. Ian had sat up, taking Mickey with him and Mickey, believe it or not, clung to him like a goddamned koala. He'd tried hard not to, but Ian's soft voice in his ear, telling him how much he'd miss him and how much he wished he were going somewhere Mickey could follow, how good it's going to feel when his first tour is over and maybe he can request somewhere like that, coaxed more tears out of Mickey. It was beyond out of character, but this was beyond anything Mickey had ever experienced... As usual, a distressed Mickey was a silent Mickey and so they just held each other, Mickey straddling Ian's waist until finally the tears dried and they kissed intimately. Ian wanted to talk about Mickey's worries, but of course Mickey was never much of an emotional talker so he'd just kissed him deeper and when he felt Ian stir, he just picked up right there, riding him until everything was better.

 

“Mickey, please?” Mickey squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the moisture away as subtly as he could.

 

“Uh, yeah. Just... Good to finally see you. I haven't... Haven't really been doing anything cool or anything. Back to hustlin' with Skinny Mike like I told you and trying-”

 

“Skinny Mike?! That sounds like a party!” Mickey actually growled at that douchebag's voice.

 

“Rowan, dude. Not now,” Ian's face was super serious as he looked off camera at his friend. His voice gentle but serious.

 

“Aww c'mon I just thought it was getting a little heavy over there!” The guy laughed, a crunching noise rattling the sound waves making it sound like there was a fuckin avalanche when it was more likely the guy just had some junk food or something.

 

“Dude, seriously. Not right now,” Ian insisted.

 

“Why? What's up?” He came around to stand in front of the camera and Mickey glared at him through the lens. “Everything okay over there, little bro?”

 

“Fucking  _excuse me?”_ Mickey demanded. He was seriously about to lose his shit on this guy.

 

“Rowan, I fucking mean it! I've got like two minutes left!” The guy laughed and put his hands in the air and walked away.

 

“Mickey, are you okay? He doesn't know when to take anything seriously, I-”

 

“Don't fuckin' worry about it.” Mickey grouched.

 

“No, really. You were about to say something serious. Please don't be mad.”

 

“I just-” Mickey broke off to rub at his forehead. He didn't need to confess his jealousy right now. Ian needed friends and he needed to get along with the guys watching his six. Ian was watching him intently, though. Willing and ready to listen. Tears started gathering in his eyes again when he realized they were pretty much out of time and most of it had been spent with Ian apologizing and that douchebag ruining everything. “I just miss you... And was starting to get worried.” He finally allowed himself to say, gazing at Ian's worried face.

 

“I miss you too, Mick. You've got no fucking idea. I uh, wrote you a letter... It should be there soon.” Mickey perked up a little bit. That would at least get him through until the next Skype call.

 

“I'll call again soon, okay?” A fucking stalactite fell through the ceiling and split his chest in two. It was time already? But it was so little time!

 

“Yeah... Yeah, I know you will.” Ian's shoulder shifted again in frame and Mickey was once again certain that Ian was stroking his face on the monitor over there. Mickey wanted to do the same except he knew that he would  _really_ start blubbering like a baby and his pride couldn't handle it.

 

“Be careful with Skinny Mike. I don't want him getting you into any hard shit.”  _Really?_ Now he was going to talk to him about this? Anger flashed through Mickey, but he held it in check. It really wasn't Ian's fault that douchebag had intervened.

 

“Yeah... We'll talk about that more next time, I guess.” He couldn't help some of the bitterness that came through. Not just that they had to promise to talk about something later when they should just be able to freely talk about it, or that they had to plan to talk about certain things later, but also that they would have had plenty of time to talk about it had douchebag not gotten involved. Ian looked apologetic but refused to open that can of worms.

 

“Two months, Mick. That's it. Two months till Christmas.” He gave him the sweetest of his smiles and everything was almost better. Almost.

 

“Never thought I'd look forward to fuckin' Christmas carols at the grocery store.” Ian laughed and bit his lip. Now he seemed to be fighting some emotion.

 

“I love you, Mick. I love you so much.” Mickey nodded and absorbed the sound of Ian saying it.

 

“I love you too-”

 

“ _We love you too, Mick!”_ Douchebag interrupted just as the call ended. Mickey sat there in shock for a long, long time.

 

What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?

 

They had just wrapped a little band-aid over the bullshit of the whole situation when he just  _had_ to come back and ruin it? Mickey forcefully closed the lid of the computer.

 

He hadn't been bothered by the guy at first. He and Ian were bunkies and bonded in training. No big deal. Then he found out he was basically the only gay guy there with Ian. Still, that didn't mean that Ian was his type and it didn't make Ian a cheater. But then Ian kept bringing him up or the guy kept hopping on their Skype calls and talking to Mickey as though they were already well acquainted or some shit. And they weren't. Mickey met the guy for fifteen minutes at Ian's graduation and what Mickey saw was not impressive. The guy was a total goody-two-shoes and yet still reminded him of those Jersey Shore douchebags. It was a strange combination that he would never understand, but there it was. Mickey couldn't help thinking, though, that the guy probably was better suited for Ian than he was. The guy was a total goody-goody and they would each understand what they went through overseas, they were both athletic, felt some sort of civic duty or some shit, and every time Mickey saw them or heard them they were clowning so clearly they were buddies. And even though Mickey  _knew_ that Ian's heart belonged to him... He couldn't help his jealousy. It wasn't like he could see for himself what was going on all of the time or could actually gauge the guy's reaction for himself.

 

Pissed off, Mickey grabbed a gun, several rounds of ammo and stalked off to his shooting range to let off some steam.

 

/////

The letter was one of the nicest things Mickey had ever received and he told Ian as much when he called about two and a half weeks later. Douchebag was luckily absent from their phone call and Mickey was able to convince Ian that he wasn't going to get into anything heavy with Skinny Mike. Running numbers. That was his job. Though he was still miffed about the Rowan guy, they had a nice conversation and went over all of the things that they wanted to do when Ian was home.

 

The next phone call wasn't even half so pleasant as the previous Skype call. Apparently, the douche had no family and no friends back home who could afford to put him up. So naturally Ian offered to have him over for Christmas.

 

“That'll be awkward as fuck.” Mickey muttered mildly.

 

“Oh, Mick, no it won't! He's a naturally friendly guy. Everyone loves him!” Ian didn't even seem to understand what Mickey's reservation was...

 

“Everyone, huh?” Mickey grumbled. Ian got quiet.

 

“You got something to say, then?” It wasn't as threatening or rude as the words would seem. He genuinely wanted to know. And that was why Mickey stood down.

 

“Uh, no... No, I don't.” Another brief silence.

 

“You don't like him?” Why did Ian sound shocked? Didn't Mickey give  _every_ indication that this prick got on his nerves? Mickey sighed. “Would you rather he not come?” Mickey wanted to be a supportive boyfriend. He strived in everything he did to do what was best for him and Ian as a  _team,_ and part of that was liking his douchebaggy friends, right? Mickey didn't honestly know.

 

“It's just...”

 

“Because I've already told him he could and he's really excited about it... I don't want to be that asshole.” Ian sounded irritated now.  _Really?_ Where did this guy get off on acting like the victim here?

 

“You know what would have kept you from being an asshole would have been for you to ask me  _first_!” Ian stayed silent but Mickey knew he was still listening. “No, I don't fuckin' like him. He's a fuckin' goody-two-shoes one minute then a douche the next. He looks at you like you created fuckin' gravity and hung his favorite fuckin' star and shit. Talks to me like he fuckin'  _knows me_  even though we've only met once and even then I didn't like him. Then you tell me he's the only other gay guy in your squad right before you leave as though  _that's supposed to make me feel okay_? I never liked the guy but then he kept interruptin' our calls and sometimes you talk to him more than you talk to me! As though he isn't standing right  _there_ and doesn't live with you while I'm over here by my fucking self every night missing your ass like crazy! And...” He took a long steadying breath. “Please... Ian,  _please_ do not bring that fucker home for Christmas. I won't see you for another seven months after this and I do  _not_ want to be--” He cut himself off with a deep sigh. He was about to go too far... He was going to say  _I don't want to be fighting for your attention like I already do when you're over there. I couldn't handle it if I had to fight for your attention when you're here with me._ But he couldn't say that because all of that was way too touchy-feely for his style. The other line was super silent.

 

Did he piss him off? Seriously? Would him finally communicating his frustration—and his wants—be enough to piss Ian off?

 

“I'll call Fiona and see if they will put him up.” Ian finally announced.

 

“ _What?!”_ Mickey roared. He couldn't help it. Was Ian  _trying_ to get Mickey to fly into a rage?

 

“Mick, he's got nowhere to go! He has some friends, sure, but he can't really afford a hotel room right now and he has no family. The guy is alone in the world, alright. That's why he's in the army!” Mickey was stunned into silence.

 

“I can  _not_ believe this... Ian...” Mickey was truly lost for words. Though he did not use them often, he was not often found without them where necessary. And this situation was sure as hell necessary. What was going on with his boyfriend?

 

“Mickey, come on... If he's at Fiona's then you and I can spend as much time together as we want.”

 

“You don't just go dumping strangers on your sister, Ian! Even when you're trying to be nice! That's going to be really fuckin' awkward for everyone!”

 

“No! It'll be fun! He's a fun guy--”

 

“I swear to Christ, Ian...”

 

“ _What?_ You swear to Christ, Ian,  _what?_ ” Ian challenged on the other end. Mickey was about to scream something. He didn't even know what but whatever it was, it was probably a good thing he stopped himself.

 

“Nothing. Fucking nothing. I guess I'll have to play nice, won't I? In my own goddamned house around my own goddamned family.” Ian sighed deeply into the other end.

 

“Mickey, I promise, it won't be that bad.”

 

“Whatever.” He was being childish. He knew it. He wasn't going to excuse it. But he couldn't help himself. This prick pissed him off  _big_ time. Maybe even hate was an appropriate word?

 

“I have to go.” Ian mumbled into the phone. Mickey felt a hole punch through his chest.

 

“Yeah, of course you do. Probably to your squad boyfriend.” Mickey spit back.

 

 _Whoa..._ Where the fuck had  _that_ come from? Mickey had no earthly idea what that was... But it wrapped up his feelings on the subject very clearly.

 

“He's not my--”

 

“Whatever you say, Gallagher. It's not like I have a choice in the matter so don't expect me to be jumping for joy over it, because I'm not. It was already bad enough I'd have to share you with your family, but at least it makes sense that I have to share you with them. This? This makes no fuckin' sense and I'm not going to pretend to be fine with it as though he hasn't ruined basically all of our conversations since you've been overseas. As though I get to see you as much as he does instead of him being up your ass every second and me being... Well, here. By. Myself. I'll pick you up from the airport on the 22nd. 6:35.” He heard Ian's sharp intake of breath and hung up.

 

Shit... Fuck.... Mickey felt his own eyes widen at what he just did.

 

Mickey had  _never_ done something so selfish or childish as hanging up on Ian... Especially not when he was overseas in an active war zone! Fuck... Fuck! What did he just do?! Could he fix it? He stared at the phone in disbelief at what he just did. He tried to redial but it ended up calling Iggy, apparently not able to reverse this call...

 

“Fuckin' what?” Iggy demanded groggily. What was this fucker still doing asleep at two in the afternoon? Mickey couldn't even respond he was still so in shock. “Dude? You butt dial me?”

 

“Uh, no... I'm here. I—” Mickey broke off. Iggy's tone was suddenly awake and aware.

 

“What happened? Is it Ian?” Mickey finally released an anxious and shaky breath.

 

“I hung up on him... He's still over there and I hung up on him during an argument...” Iggy stayed really quiet for a moment.

 

“Alibi?” Iggy suggested. Mickey nodded and remembered that Iggy couldn't hear a nod so finally answered in the affirmative.

 

/////

 

Mickey refused to talk until he'd choked down his third shot in fifteen minutes.

 

“Hey, bro... Let's slow down, huh?” Iggy suggested when Mickey wanted to order another shot. He slumped back in his seat and covered most of his face with one hand as Iggy ordered a pitcher of beer instead. Mickey didn't usually sit at a booth, but he really didn't feel like having Kev or V butting into his business. When Kev dropped the pitcher by he almost looked like he wanted to ask Mickey what was going on, but one look at Mickey's face discouraged any questions.

 

“Alright, man... What happened?” Iggy probed gently. Mickey met his brother's eye and poured his first round of beer into his glass.

 

“You know dickhead? The guy Ian's friends with in his unit?” Iggy rolled his eyes heavenward indicating that he remembered said dickhead. The reaction was warranted since Mickey bitched about dickhead every chance he got. “He interrupted our call again and I was just so pissed off about the whole thing...” He chugged the beer and reached for a refill when Iggy pulled the pitcher to him. Mickey glared at his brother but Iggy didn't give in. Mickey sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Ian invited the prick to stay with us for Christmas.” Iggy's eyes widened and Mickey's did the same, the nonverbal conversation expressed mostly through their brows:  _bro, really?_ And  _I know, right? Shit's ridiculous._

 

“So I let him know I didn't want him to come and apparently the guy is all alone in the world or some shit so Ian didn't want to tell him to fuck off so he was gonna dump the guy off on  _Fiona!_ ” Iggy's brows shot up again. And Mickey matched the expression.  _Thank God someone understood!_ That meant, at least for this part of the problem, Mickey was right and Ian was wrong. His momentary reassurance crashed, though, when he remembered why he was  _really_ upset... He reached for the pitcher and Iggy looked unsure then finally poured a half glass for him. Mickey started sipping on it nervously. “You know how I try to keep any conversations light? Not leave us off on a bad note just in case something happens, you know?” Iggy nodded. “Well... I just fucked all that up now...” Iggy gazed on in silent compassion.

 

“Why'd you hang up on him?” Iggy asked as he poured himself a glass of beer. Mickey shrugged.

 

“I don't fucking know. That's the worst of it! I didn't even mean to do it! I didn't even—” Mickey broke off because he was getting hysterical. He looked away to check that no one was getting a free show from his emotional crisis. “I didn't even tell him I loved him before I hung up.” He tried to make it a throw-away comment.... But how exactly could that be managed? Iggy closed his eyes and dropped his head, regret on his own face for how guilty his brother must be feeling.

 

“Fuck...” Iggy murmured, pouring Mickey more beer after he downed it.

 

“Yeah...”

 

They sat in uncomfortable silence as Mickey fought tears and anxiety-driven images in his head.

 

“You don't have another call before he comes back, do you?” Iggy guessed. Mickey shook his head dismally. “What did you say before you hung up?” Mickey sighed blearily.

 

“Fuck, I don't know, Iggs! A lot of shit...” He thought about it anyway. “I told him I'd see him when I pick him up at the airport.” Iggy nodded. “I don't wanna talk about this anymore.”

 

“M'kay. Then what do you want to talk about?” Iggy asked good-naturedly.

 

“Nothing fucking depressing.” Mickey answered and Iggy sat back on the bench thinking of something to talk about. They ended up drinking in silence for a while before Iggy got Mickey to play a few rounds of pool with him. Once conversation did start up again it was mostly concerning family business and Mandy's whereabouts since their sister had skipped town almost a year ago and not shown her face since. Finally, Kev gave the last call and they left.

 

As Mickey laid in bed that night he imagined Ian's arms wrapped around him. Imagined his voice softly telling him that it was okay, and he forgave him for hanging up like that. Maybe he was a little delusional, or maybe he was so drunk he actually thought for a second that Ian was there. But Mickey fell asleep with a stream of apologies falling from his lips, clutching a pillow as though it were Ian himself.

 

/////

 

Finally, a couple of weeks later, Ian was due home. The 22nd! Mickey had been dreaming of this day since even before Ian left, but here for these past couple of weeks he had been dreading it.

 

What would Ian say? What would dickhead say? Would dickhead say anything? Was Ian actually right and would dickhead not be so bad?

 

He waited nervously just outside baggage claim with other awaiting military spouses (he the only male). The sea of estrogen and female excitement reached inside his core and stirred the already nervous energy there, rilling it up until he thought he might puke.

 

He was so resentful that this wasn't happy nervousness or even excitement. He was dreading this because of the last conversation they had. God he regretted it so much and if he could take it back he fucking would. Not telling Ian what he really felt, but the hanging up on him part.

 

A couple of soldiers strolled through the baggage claim and into this little greeting area and the air erupted with high pitched screams as one wife (girlfriend?) ran to one of the guys, jumped, and wrapped her legs around his waist hugging on him and crying into his neck. The other woman just stood frozen and waited for him to make his way to her, allowing herself to be enveloped in his embrace. Mickey returned his attention to the archway where a mix of civilians and soldiers drifted out. This had to have been one of the longest two or three minutes of Mickey's life, but it was all worth it when he saw a shock of red hair behind a bald guy.

 

Mickey's reaction to seeing Ian was a bit of a mix between the first woman he saw and the second. He darted around a few people who had squeezed in front of him and continued moving until their gazes met and Mickey's whole world came to a screeching halt. Ian smiled at him; a huge, goofy, beautiful smile that gave Mickey goosebumps. He felt tears welling as he took his boyfriend in. Perfect, Ian was perfect. Not even so much as a scratch on that beautiful face. Now frozen to the spot as Ian rushed to him, Mickey just kept watching him dumbstruck that he was actually in the same room as him again. Ian dropped his bag about three feet before Mickey and they both threw out their arms and embraced each other. Mickey tucked his nose into Ian's neck and breathed deep. His hands wouldn't stop moving. One second they were around Ian's shoulders, then one hand was on his upper back, the other on his lower back. Finally, he settled for having both arms slung over Ian's shoulders, one hand curled securely around the base of his neck and the other thrust deep into his hair, little that there was. Ian wound his arms so tight around Mickey's waist that they seemed to wrap around him twice. Mickey stood on his tip-toes as he clutched tightly to his boyfriend. They stood there, swaying in each other's arms, chaos going on around them, but neither of them payed one speck of attention to any of it.

 

Ian was the one to pull away first. He cupped Mickey's jaw, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone and grinned again.

 

“Hey, Mick,” He murmured. Mickey sighed at his name on Ian's lips again.

 

“Hey,” he croaked back, not nearly as gracefully. Ian laughed under his breath and lowered his lips to Mickey's. Ian broke away entirely too soon but Mickey understood. He was in uniform and in public so he had to carry himself differently than normal. But when Mickey opened his eyes from the kiss he realized the uniform wasn't the only reason Ian broke away sooner than expected. Behind Ian was a broad shouldered guy with crew cut dark brown hair wearing the same fatigues Ian was. Mickey recognized the guy as Dickhead, aka Rowan McKay.

 

“Mick!” Dickhead greeted enthusiastically, pushing his hand forward almost knocking his finger tips into Mickey's chest.  _Mick?!_ Where the  _fuck_ did this guy get off calling him Mick? Only Ian called him that. Period. Mickey just glared at the hand until Rowan dropped it, his big smile falling too. “Uh, I'm glad your sister could put me up for a few nights so you and Ian could have some  _alone_ time.” He remarked, slapping his smile back on his face. Mickey nodded.

 

“Yeah, me too. I mean, you've gotta be sick of each other being so close all of the time... Might be nice to have some space, right? Meet new people?” Mickey heard himself say. Dickhead laughed a little and shook his head, seeing right through Mickey's snark.

 

“Sure, man. Let's get out of here?” Dickhead suggested. Ian's eyes were closed in irritation, but his arm was still draped over Mickey's shoulders so that was the good news.

That sense of dread returned to Mickey's gut as they navigated through the arrivals lobby to the car Mickey had to borrow for the occasion. Ian didn't stop touching him the entire walk to the car or the entire car ride to Fiona's. This was good, but Mickey also knew better. They  _would_ be talking about this. Mickey wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to... But he also probably didn't have a choice in the matter.

 

 


	2. The Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Douchebag here, Mickey is forced to deal with this guy... The only question, really, is how long before he snaps at the guy's jaw? And how will Ian take to Mickey's jealousy?

Only two hours into the visit at Fiona's and Mickey was already sucking down cigarettes like he was in some sort of contest because Dickhead wasn't just annoying... He was charming. All of the Gallaghers fucking loved him. He was funny (or so they say) and one of those goody-two-shoes who volunteer and give back to the community and shit. He fucking fed the homeless multiple times a week before the army! The other Gallaghers were fascinated by the guy who grew up so privileged and yet so down to Earth (again, so they say), and who made them laugh non-stop.

 

The good news was Mickey didn't pick up any vibes that Dickhead was making moves on his man otherwise the cops would have been called by now. But even so, he couldn't help but hate the guy. He was everything Mickey wasn't... Everything Ian probably would want him to be.

 

Of course, Mickey was just being whiney and making assumptions, but... Come on! Ian was in the fucking _army_ trying to escape south side and Mickey was the living embodiment of south side life. With Mickey around, Ian would never _truly_ leave south side...

 

And so that was why Mickey was on the front porch nursing his fourth beer and sucking on his third cigarette in a row. And Ian hadn't even noticed... Of course he hadn't.

 

Whatever. If Ian was so enamored with the guy, Mickey guessed he'd have to get over that. He didn't sense that either of them were _into_ each other, but they were certainly up each other's asses enough that he still felt that green monster poking behind the curtain ready to jump out at any moment to make Mickey explode and say or do something rash to ruin the whole visit. And Ian didn't need that. This was like vacation for him and he deserved every second.

 

The door creaked open behind him and he heard two light footsteps then felt a fuzzy blanket descend over his shoulders.

 

“It's fuckin' freezing out, man.” Ian's voice whispered above him. He didn't turn to look at him, staring ahead and flicking the ashes off his cigarette. Ian's bare feet stepped down one at a time followed by his jean-clad ass parking it beside him on the ice-cold porch. The red head pulled the corner of the blanket around his shoulders and curled into Mickey's side, making Mickey's bitterness ebb. This was the first time they were alone this whole visit so far and Mickey was going to fucking enjoy it. He switched his cigarette into his left hand and wrapped his arm around Ian's shoulders, pulling him in closer. “I thought that you were going to just smoke a cigarette and be back in... But it's been like thirty minutes so I started to worry since you didn't come out with a jacket or anything.” Ian explained.

 

Mickey shrugged and passed Ian the cigarette, which he shook his head against. Mickey's brows rose in surprise.

 

“I thought people _started_ smoking in the army, not quit.” Mickey remarked. Ian shrugged and wrapped an arm around the back of Mickey's waist. Mickey took another drag and held it in as long as he could. Ian was looking at Mickey through his lashes, worry furrowing his brow.

 

“Mick, what's wrong?” Ian asked, interrupting a long and tense silence. Mickey finished off the cigarette and shook his head, his brows shooting up in insistence. “You've been quiet all night... And came out here without a fuckin' jacket.” Ian insisted. Mickey shrugged and put the cigarette butt next to the two others. Ian sighed and stood, Mickey followed him with his eyes.

 

“Is it Rowan?” Ian guessed. Mickey's mouth opened to argue that no, nothing was wrong, but he closed it and turned his face away from Ian, unable to lie to him. “Mick...” Ian groaned, head dropping back in frustration. “There is _nothing_ to worry about, man. I promise. We're bros, that's it.” Mickey's heart deflated as he felt the desperation loosen his tongue (or maybe that was the alcohol?) but he fought the words. His jaw hung open for a long moment, fighting the urge to speak before he finally took a deep gulp of beer and settled against the porch rail. “Mick—”

 

“Ian?” Rowan's deep voice reverberated through the air even before he had opened the door. Both men turned around to watch him excitedly burst through the door. “Ian! Come inside, man, we're about to start! Oh... Mickey. I thought you'd gone home by now.” That did it.

 

“Why the fuck would I have gone home?” Mickey demanded.

 

“Mickey—” Ian tried settling Mickey down before he did something stupid, but it was too late. He was standing up and ready to throw down.

 

“Okay, what the _fuck_ is your problem, bro?” Rowan barked back.

 

“You! My problem is _always_ you!” Mickey erupted. He knew it was probably a stupid move to get in this guy's face. He was six inches taller and fifty pounds heavier, not to mention trained to kill. But in this moment, with alcohol and pure hot anger rushing through him, no course of action ever made more sense. “You've spent the past three years with _my_ boyfriend. Up his ass so much that even when I get f _ive. Fucking. MINUTES._ _o_ f time.... You're _always there too!_ I'm not _in_ a relationship with you, Dickhead! I don't _want_ to see you or hear you the five or ten minutes we have every coupla weeks! I couldn't give a shit about you if I fucking tried! Y _ou_ get to spend all goddamned day around _my_ partner, _my_ life, while I'm home by my fucking self twiddling my goddamned thumbs because he wants to serve a country that never gave a shit about him in the first fucking place, and now every time he steps away from you for _five. God_ _d_ _amned. MINUTES. You_ are right fucking there by his side as though you fuckin' mean somethin'!” Rowan's face fell, the fight going out of him, but Mickey was too riled up and couldn't see that the quarrel could be over. “It's not like I can just _pick up_ and fuckin' _call_ him. Believe me. I've tried. And now... If _that_ hasn't been bad enough through his training and then his first deployment, now you're _here! With_ my _fucking family!_ As though you haven't just spent basically three fucking years living with him while I've seen him maybe a total of three months? _So_ far up his ass I can't even get _one goddamned word in!_ ”

 

“Mick...” Ian interrupted, pleading.

 

“No! I'm so fucking done with this. I'm going the fuck home. Stay with him as long as you want, I don't give a shit. You guys visit and I'll be at home whenever it's my turn.” He swiped up his beer and hurried away before anyone could grab him, but that didn't mean he wasn't followed.

 

“Mick! Mickey, come on!” Ian called after him, even Rowan said something. He kept walking.

 

////

 

Mickey stormed into the house and slammed the door shut without locking it. He was shocked when the door opened behind him and he whirled around expecting some punk from the neighborhood to be behind him... But it was Ian.

 

“I meant what I said. If you want to go visit with him, you go do it. But I ain't gonna sit around and watch all of you drool over him.” Mickey grumbled, pulling a fresh beer out of the fridge, twisting off the cap, and taking a swig in one practiced motion.

 

“You don't have to be so fucking dramatic, Mickey! Jesus!” Ian griped.

 

“ _Dramatic_?” Mickey exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up to almost reach his hairline.

 

“No one is telling you that you can't be friends with him too or get to know him or some shit. And there was no reason to storm off like a fuckin' child. We would have had all night tonight to be together.” Ian reasoned. Mickey paused. He fidgeted a bit, brushing the tip of his nose with his thumb, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing anywhere _but_ at Ian...

 

“Why the fuck do I gotta even try to be friends with the guy?” Mickey grumped. “I've talked to him, _more_ than I've wanted to. I've given the guy a chance and he's a fuckin' tool, a'right?” Ian was about to respond, but Mickey got riled up again, “and _I'm_ the one being childish? As though you haven't just spent basically three years up this guy's ass and I haven't and so it's a crime for me to want to have you to myself for a fucking _week?!”_ Ian shrank back. Mickey bit his lip again. He hated expressing himself in normal circumstances, but in anger? He hated that even more because this was when everything came out. Sometimes he was able to keep the worst of his opinions to himself, but if he really got going he might say something he regretted. “And it ain't like I hid how I felt. I've _never_ liked the guy. And I've never tried to act like I did. This really shouldn't be a fuckin' shock to you.”

 

“I know it's been a long time, Mick, but he's got no one--”

 

“ _SO?!”_ Mickey screamed, his voice actually cracking. Here he went erupting... “How the fuck is that _our_ problem? It ain't your fault he's got no family and it ain't up to you or me to give him someone to make him feel better about it. Especially not when I don't know when the fuck I'm going to get you back for more than a week or a month at a fucking time. Don't you fucking get it, asshole? I _miss_ you! I _hate_ that you're fucking gone all of the time. I _hate_ that this prick is around you more than me and that even though I _never_ see you, you talk about him every time we talk or he interrupts our calls as though I'm just as happy to see or hear him as I am you, but I couldn't give less of a shit!” The fight went out of Ian. Mickey rarely used his words like this and it was strange and heartbreaking for Ian to be on the receiving end of this much frustration and hurt. They both stood there in their kitchen, Mickey breathing hard, Ian fighting to find something to say.

 

“Fuck, Mick...” Ian breathed. Mickey shook his head and turned to the counter to have something solid to lean on now that the fight was apparently over, gulping at his beer. Suddenly, he felt Ian's arms wrap around his waist, hands wandering over his torso, fingers massaging a pectoral, then his abdomen, just wandering over him. The fight went out of Mickey as well, luxuriating in Ian feeling him, absorbing him. Ian rested his forehead against the back of Mickey's neck and inhaled deep. “I'm sorry...”

 

Mickey sighed, placed the beer down on the counter, and turned in Ian's arms to hug him back.

 

Just then, a knock broke their comfortable silence and shattered the calm they had just established.

 

“Give you one fucking guess.” Mickey grumbled. Ian sighed and went to let Rowan in.

 

“Just checking to make sure no one killed anyone... Gotta go back with no felonies or casualties!” Rowan laughed at his own _stupid_ joke. Mickey made a noise from the back of his throat to show his irritation at Rowan's stupid humor.

 

“What could it _possibly_ be now?” Mickey demanded. Rowan shot a look at Mickey, like he was offended or something.

 

“It was a fucking joke, dude. I get it. You don't like me. That's fine. But there's no reason to be a dick to me just because you're afraid I'm going to steal your boyfriend from you or whatever.”

 

Mickey couldn't even respond. The next move he made was going to be violent. Every muscle in his back, arms, and shoulders locked into place so he wouldn't swing, his knees buckling with the force of how quickly they tightened.

 

“Rowan, just go back to Fiona's, okay? I really should have asked him before inviting you here, I'm sorry. Be mad at me, okay? _I'm_ the asshole here, really.” Ian said gently. Rowan turned his attention to Ian in shock.

 

“So, what? Are you just going to let him run your life anywhere you are? I got news for you, Ian. Anyone who makes you choose between them and a friend is _not_ a good partner.” Rowan flashed an angry look at Mickey who was releasing his grip on the beer bottle, not wanting to crack it against the counter and do something stupid.

 

“Who the fuck is running my life? And who the fuck said he was making me choose between him and anyone? _I_ am telling you to go back to Fiona's because he made a valid point. Don't be a dick right now, I get that I shouldn't have invited you unless I knew it was cool but we'll still have an alright break, okay?”

 

“What valid point? That his feelings got hurt and he feels threatened by another gay guy in your squad?” He turned to Mickey. “Mick.” Mickey beat his fist against the counter just for some sort of release. “I don't want your boyfriend, alright? And besides that, he's not a cheater. He loves you and talks about you all of the fucking time. It gets really annoying, actually. Especially since I haven't seen what's so special since I've been here.”

 

“ _Dude!”_ Ian punched his shoulder and it was _not_ a lighthearted bro punch. Everyone got quiet for a moment, Mickey refusing to say anything now that Ian was on his side and finally understood. “Look. I get that this is a little fucked up--”

 

“Fucked up? It didn't have to be until your pansy-ass boyfriend got his panties in a twist over another guy pal-ing it up with you.”

 

“ _Pansy?_ ” Mickey mouthed as Rowan kept talking. _Oh, I know... He did not just call me a pansy..._

 

“Get out of my fucking house or I'm about to make you.” Mickey announced, interrupting whatever rant Rowan was on.

 

“What?” He asked, true disbelief, and amusement, coloring his voice.

 

“I am _so_ fucking close to beating your skull in so you better get out of my house before I fuckin' shove you out.” Mickey threatened darkly. Rowan had the _nerve_ to laugh.

 

“Mickey... Mickey! Don't!” Ian cried as Mickey crossed the kitchen in three strides, fists ready to go. Ian's pleas didn't stop him and Rowan from going toe to toe. Rowan was ready for him and made the first punch, which Mickey deflected with his forearm and gave a powerful punch to the stomach. He kneed him in the groin (lucky the guy was so tall his crotch was basically just about at Mickey's waist level) and was about to kick the guy while he was down when Ian pulled him back.

 

“That's enough, Mick!” Ian shouted. Mickey huffed but jerked away from Ian, watching Rowan give him a look of begrudging respect.

 

“Fine...” Rowan groaned, hands still cradling his dick. But he was able to stand after a short moment, breathing out heavily.

 

“Rowan... _Please_ just go back to Fiona's.” Ian begged. Rowan nodded and turned to face Mickey who was back at the counter guzzling the last of his beer. He turned to face Rowan and make heated eye contact.

 

“I'll leave... And I'll stay out of your way, dude... Just... Chill, alright? Ian's allowed to have friends.” Mickey's glare hardened. What fuckin' meth was this guy smoking? He was all over the place with his attitude and Mickey could _not_ get a read on him. But he understood right here what happened. Some south side rules were universal. If someone smaller than you can take you on, you've gotta show respect. Somehow, Mickey had just made his point and earned enough respect for Rowan to get the picture: _back off, asshole, he's mine. And my time is my time._

 

Maintaining a gentle hold on his junk, Rowan saw himself out and Ian locked the door behind him. Ian slowly made his way to Mickey with a furrow in his brow and refusing to make eye contact. Nervousness curled inside of Mickey's stomach as he realized things _may_ have gone too far...

 

“I didn't mean to do that...” Mickey mumbled. Ian looked at him incredulously then. “Okay... I did. But c'mon the prick had it fuckin' coming!” Ian stormed over to Mickey and Mickey was prepared to push him away if things got too heated, but it wasn't that kind of power behind Ian's stride. Ian grabbed at the front of Mickey's shirt and pulled him into one of the most powerfully charged kisses they'd ever shared. Mickey's eyes went wide in confusion and shock before he finally started kissing back. Too soon, Ian pulled back, both of them breathless.

 

“Mickey...” Ian breathed, touching his forehead to Mickey's, allowing them to settle themselves and breathe each other in. It was a comfortable silence, Mickey's hands framing Ian's face, Ian's hands settled on Mickey's waist. “You know you don't have anything to worry about, right?” Ian finally asked, breaking the silence.

 

“Ian...” Mickey groaned.

 

“No. We are fucking talking about this. And then, to show you that you don't have anything to worry about, I'll give you what I know you want.”

 

 _That_ got Mickey's attention., and stirred his lust... Heat instantly rushing through his body in a tidal wave. They broke away from each other a little bit, looking intently in each other's eyes, Mickey's hands sliding down Ian's neck, over his shoulders and down his pecks to tease his abdomen with the tips of his fingers. Mickey wouldn't exactly call himself _seductive,_ but he knew what effect he had on his boyfriend, and that was probably the closest word to what he did.

 

“Can't we just go straight to that part?” Mickey asked sarcastically, knowing the answer.

 

“No.” Ian replied firmly. Mickey sidled up closer to Ian, breathing his air and not so subtly touching his semi hard dick against Ian's hip. “You punched him, Mick.” Ian insisted. Mickey completely backed out of Ian's hold and backed against the counter, crossing his arms. “I get it, okay? You don't like him, and now you probably never will. And he gets in the way of us talking.” Mickey turned his attention back to Ian. _Wait, what?_ Mickey was... right? Ian was... apologizing? “But you shouldn't have hit him.”

 

Mickey rolled his eyes.

 

“What?” Ian demanded.

 

“ _That's_ the 'talking about this' we're doing? This is what's keeping us from fuckin' right now?” Mickey griped. Ian smirked.

 

“Unless there's anything else...” Ian asked.

 

“I say we can talk about anything else later.” Mickey suggested, sauntering back over to Ian and wrapping his fingers around the back of Ian's neck, stroking the buzz of his hair around the back of his head.

 

“Do you?” Ian was having fun now, all seriousness melted away. Mickey just nodded and kissed him. Ian broke it off entirely too soon and quirked a brow at him. “I don't like you punching my friends just because they piss you off.” Ian breathed darkly, fighting hard to maintain a serious edge in his voice, but failing because his tone just sounded sexually heated more than serious.

 

“You gonna punish me for it?” Mickey grinned devilishly. Ian grinned too and rolled his eyes heavenward.

 

“Why do I have a feeling it won't be a punishment unless there's blue balls involved?” Ian laughed when Mickey lowered his forehead to Ian's chest with a deep groan in defeat.

 

“Fuck, man. If you do that I might have to kill him.” Mickey grumbled.

 

“ _Him?”_ Ian laughed.

 

“Yeah, him. Since he'd be the reason for that fuckin' bullshit.”

 

“So if I fuck ya real good will you play nice tomorrow?” Ian asked. Mickey pretended to think about it really hard as Ian's hands slowly traveled down to Mickey's waistband.

 

“Make it three times and I'll do my best.” Mickey finally decided.

 

“ _Three?!”_

 

“What? You don't think you got it in ya?” Mickey challenged.

 

“Well.. Maybe twice but... shit, Mickey. You haven't even been helping yourself or somethin'?”

 

“Fuck off, I ain't been a fuckin nun or anything... I've just...” He broke off. He breathed deep, needing to let Ian know how serious he was. “I've missed you, alright?” Ian's demeanor shifted, darkening.

 

“I've missed you too, Mick.”

 

“You gonna show me how much?” Mickey challenged again thrusting his hips against Ian's. Ian groaned deep, almost like a growl. Then he shocked Mickey by wrapping his hands around the backs of his thighs and yanking him up. Mickey hardly missed a beat before wrapping his thighs around Ian's waist.

 

“Jesus. Been doing some heavy lifting out in the fuckin' desert?” Mickey asked.

 

“Been waiting to do that!” Ian laughed, stretching his neck up to reach Mickey's lips. Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian's neck and finally kissed him hard.

 

Ian meandered into their bedroom and broke off the kiss before unceremoniously dumping Mickey on the bed. Mickey scrambled to the center of the mattress and tore off his shirt, watching Ian do the same. Ian followed him onto the bed and kissed him hard, tongues warring for dominance. All of the tongue action went straight to Mickey's dick, heat vibrating through him.

 

“Fuck....” Mickey breathed when Ian finally broke off the all-consuming kiss and traveled down to his neck.

 

“It's been so long... I think I'm gonna fuck you real hard and quick before I take my time with you.” Ian warned between kisses. Mickey groaned and smirked.

 

“You waitin' for a fuckin' invitation, Army?”

 

Ian smirked back and attacked the button on Mickey's pants, tearing them down his legs and making short work of sliding his shoes off with his jeans. It was a lot of practice that allowed Ian to do such a thing and a little thrill shot through Mickey at the realization that they would never skip a beat. No matter how much distance they had between them and no matter for how long, they would always bounce back to each other. This time just had a little obstacle was all.

 

Ian made similar short work with Mickey's boxers, but this time only bothered sliding them down to mid thigh before swallowing him down. At the sudden sensation of his dick meeting the cool air and then being enveloped by Ian's hot, wet mouth, Mickey let out a surprisingly loud sigh. As Ian sucked him off, he started the process of taking his own pants off, toeing his shoes and socks off as he worked.

 

Mickey pressed his head back into the mattress allowing himself to surrender to Ian's mouth, his fingers trailing lightly through his hair, occasionally gripping the red strands when Ian started playing with his balls, or even more exciting trailed his perineum.

 

“Fuck...” Mickey sighed as Ian continued toying with him. “Ian—” Mickey whined when Ian brushed the rim of his entrance with a dry finger, but journeyed no further. “I thought this was gonna be quick!” Mickey griped. Ian chuckled.

 

“Well, get hard faster and I fucking will!" 

 

"Suck it harder, then! Jesus!" 

 

Ian laughed and fetched the lube while they had a free second. While Ian was away, Mickey finished getting undressed and rearranged himself on the bed, leaning against the headboard a little bit, one leg bent, watching Ian impatiently as he too stripped. Ian clambered back on the bed and took Mickey in.

 

"I can't believe I'm home with you..." Ian whispered reverently.

 

"We can be squishy later, man. C'mon." Mickey begged impatiently. Ian laughed and lowered himself over Mickey's body. His stomach covered Mickey's semi-hard erection and he rolled his hips ever so slightly to add pressure against Mickey's entrance and some friction to his member. Mickey sucked in a breath and rolled his hips up to meet him. Ian ran his fingers through Mickey's hair and kissed him softly. The kiss grew in intensity and Mickey sank lower and lower into the pillows and thrust his fingers into Ian's soft strands. Mickey opened his mouth wide to brush his tongue languidly against Ian's causing them both to moan. After a few more of those kisses, Mickey broke away to tuck his head into the crook of Ian's neck, breathless.

 

"Please, Ian... I want you so fuckin' bad..." Ian sighed at Mickey using his name. His name on Mickey's lips was always the sweetest sound and never failed to make his heart expand with love and adoration.

 

"Okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Mickey's temple before sitting back on his heels, grabbing the lube. Mickey settled on the pillows and watched Ian squeeze some lube on his fingers. Mickey spread his legs wide, wanton, as Ian rubbed at his entrance, making sure there was enough lube to prepare him. Mickey sighed deeply as Ian pressed the first long digit inside of him, and bit his lip when Ian didn't stop. They were both breathing heavily, soaking up the weight of the moment, the intensity of their reunion. As Ian pressed the second finger to his entrance, Mickey grew impatient.

 

"C'mon man, I told you I ain't been a fuckin' nun. You can go harder." Ian chuckled at Mickey's impatience. 

 

"Just don't want to hurt you. Those dildos don't have fuck all on me." Ian's tone was proud... cocky. Though Mickey couldn't exactly blame him for being that way. He did have a fuckin' amazing cock. Mickey was about to whine again about going too slow when Ian thrust his two fingers inside him and started pumping them in, out, in, out. Mickey punched out a breath in response and leaned up on one forearm to gain some leverage to fuck himself back on those fingers. Ian wrapped his other hand around the back of Mickey's neck and pulled him in for a kiss, sitting him up a little bit. That new angle elicited a new sound from Mickey as Ian continued his pace. Because Mickey's mouth was a little preoccupied, Ian took to kissing his neck instead, sucking ever so lightly right over the vein.

 

Mickey sighed loudly into Ian's shoulder, "Ugh, Ian... Please?" 

 

It wasn't often that Ian could get Mickey to beg this early in the game. Mickey Milkovich didn't ask permission, he fucking took what he wanted so long as Ian didn't tell him to stop. But for some reason, Mickey was so desperate that he was already reduced to begging and the power over his lover's body and responses got Ian high.

 

"Are you sure you're ready?" Ian murmured against Mickey's ear, knowing his breath was tickling him. Mickey's head fell back but Ian could tell he was nodding. "Alright," Ian allowed, pulling his fingers from Mickey's body without warning. Mickey's groan in response sounded mournful but he took the shift in pace to turn over onto his hands and knees, Ian withdrawing just far enough to give him room. Ian rolled on a condom as Mickey prepped himself for the rough pace Ian promised; placing a pillow under his chest and backing away from the headboard with enough room to grab hold, but far enough back so that he wouldn't bash the crown of his head against the wood. Mickey rest his chest comfortably on the pillow, but his ass remained proudly in the air, waiting only a little patiently for Ian to finish getting ready, lubing the condom just to be extra prepared. Ian touched the outer ring of muscle gingerly with the tips of his fingers.

 

"Fuck... No, man. C'mon, I'm good, I swear." Mickey practically whined into the pillow. Ian chuckled and grabbed a hold of Mickey's hip with one hand, placed himself at his entrance with his other.

 

"C'mere." Ian invited, and Mickey slid back himself, Ian only pushing forward with enough force to press inside, but from there letting Mickey do the real work. Mickey pressed his hips back, taking Ian all in one stroke, moaning deeply the whole way. Once Mickey's ass sat in the bowl of Ian's pelvis, Mickey stopped, still moaning like a goddamned porn star. They both cursed at the same time, relishing in the warmth and intimacy at being reunited.

 

"Fuck..." Mickey breathed, adjusting his head on the pillow so the whole left side of his face was pressed into the soft support.

 

"God... I missed you, Mick." Ian replied, surprised at the emotion in his tone. He really had missed him... 

 

Mickey gripped the sheets in his hands and thrust back just the teeniest bit to remind Ian that he had a fuckin' job to do.

 

"Don't move." Ian directed. Mickey's insides contracted at the command and the teeniest bit of cum dribbled down the head of his cock. He nodded his head letting Ian know that he was okay with this direction. Ian placed his hands on Mickey's hips and moved him forward a few inches before withdrawing slowly, just enough to leave the head inside. Mickey exhaled reverently at the rich feeling of Ian gently preparing him. "Good?" Ian asked. Mickey nodded enthusiastically as he slammed inside before withdrawing as quickly, and set a punishing pace. Mickey practically screamed at the force and hugged the pillow to him, not allowing his hips to move back and meet him. He surrendered to Ian's pace, taking everything he was giving and feeling goddamned grateful. He tried so hard not to push back, wanting to just feel Ian's power as he surged inside him over and over again, but he couldn't help himself. It had been so fucking long since he'd been able to physically love him and while this session certainly wouldn't be described as "making love" by most people, it was one of the many ways that Ian and Mickey expressed their love. After a few minutes of this rapid rhythm, Mickey had to join in the effort and lifted himself off the pillow, one hand wrapping around the top of the headboard for leverage.

 

Ian slowed his pace but kept up the power in each thrust, allowing Mickey to set the rhythm now. It was slower but just as intense and both of them groaned through slacked jaws at the feeling. Mickey felt he _could_ keep this up for hours but he was already so desperate to come, wanting to feel Ian swell inside him and release.

 

"Fuck, Mick..." Ian ran his fingernails down Mickey's back and rubbed his thumb deeply into the base of his back, wanting to feel as much of his boyfriend as he possibly could. "I missed you so much." Ian murmured through panted breath. Mickey turned his head around to make eye contact with Ian. There was something about visibly connecting with the person fucking you that was so ridiculously sexy... Especially when that person was the love of your life. "C'mere... wanna kiss you..." Ian breathed, leaning forward to coax Mickey into a sitting position. Mickey sighed loudly at the new feeling. Gravity brought him down making each thrust just a bit deeper and in order to keep a pattern they slowed down their pace just a bit so Mickey stayed connected with Ian longer. Ian kissed Mickey's exposed throat while Mickey moaned wantonly, head leaned back against Ian's shoulder.

 

"Fuuuck..." Mickey sighed, turning his face toward's Ian's so he could finally give him that kiss. He wrapped his hand around the back of Ian's head and kissed him deep, maintaining that slow and heavy rhythm. Ian had actually stopped his rhythm so Mickey was fucking himself on Ian's lap. 

 

"You close, man?" Ian asked once they finally broke their kiss. Mickey nodded, biting his lip. "Alright..." 

 

Ian wrapped his hand around Mickey's leaking erection and started to stroke. There was no rhythm to it. It was sloppy, it was erratic, but Mickey couldn't care less. He wrapped both arms over Ian's shoulders, one hand massaging the base of Ian's neck and the other switching from running through his hair and gripping the strands tight. They kept at it for another several minutes before Mickey finally collapsed on the mattress and kept thrusting back on Ian's lap, Ian helping mostly to stay connected but otherwise letting Mickey run the show. He was teasing him, and he knew it. And Ian didn't feel all that bad about it... 

 

Finally, Mickey felt everything tighten.

 

"I'm gonna--"

 

"Okay, go for it..." 

 

They came together, each groaning out some variation of a curse or the other's name. Ian remained deep inside Mickey as they each came down from their highs. Mickey leaned forward and slowly dropped his hips to the mattress in exhaustion. Finally, once Ian got his wits about him, he withdrew gently and gathered Mickey in his arms. They were both breathing heavily and each breath almost sounded like a small, quiet moan as they each reveled in their reunion.

 

"Fuck..." Ian chuckled wrapping his arms tighter around Mickey's shoulders. "Didn't think you'd miss me that much." Mickey glared up at him from his position on Ian's chest.

 

"Gimme a fuckin' minute and I'll make sure you don't fuckin' doubt it." Mickey griped. Ian laughed again and kissed Mickey's forehead. Once they'd both settled into silence, the air tensed a bit...

 

"I _am_ sorry..." Ian finally whispered.  Mickey avoided eye contact and just listened, his heart constricting. "For not listening to you... For not realizing sooner that he was pissing you off... For inviting him over..." Mickey's cheeks burned in a way that they never do any other time than when accepting a compliment or having a serious emotional discussion with Ian. "For not spending enough time with you over the past few years."

 

"As long as it stops, it's fine." Mickey shrugged. Ian nodded and rolled over to lay on top of Mickey, his weight supported on one arm as he carded his fingers through Mickey's hair, smirking at the little beads of sweat against his hairline. 

 

"I can always request to have you come with me... But--" Ian looked away, mouth twitching with his drop in confidence.

 

"But...?"

 

"We'd have to be married..." Ian hinted. Mickey's stomach exploded with butterflies, every muscle in his body tightening. "I knew it... I shouldn't have said anything." Ian groaned, turning on his side to lay flat on his back. " _Fuck..."_ Ian sighed. "I should have just kept my mouth shut... I'm sorry, forget I said anything--" 

 

Mickey threw a leg over Ian's lap and settled himself over his abdomen. Ian automatically reached out to place his hands on Mickey's thighs, his eyes displaying his anxiety.

 

"But if we do get hitched, I can come with you next time?" Mickey asked, not even trying to hide his anxiety or his excitement.

 

"Should make it easier, at least. There's no guarantee but... yeah." Mickey couldn't contain his excitement and crashed his lips to Ian's, both of them smiling into the kiss. Mickey wrapped his hands around the back of Ian's neck and Ian gingerly caressed Mickey's shoulders as he kissed him back.

 

"How about when you get back next time?" Mickey suggested, trying to keep it cool but absolutely failing. Ian grinned and nodded. 

 

"Think about it. I don't want us to do it unless we really want to... And it's probably not the best thing to have this conversation after make-up sex but... It's not like I haven't been thinking about this for a long time." Mickey sat up and Ian followed, keeping his arms securely around Mickey. Mickey nodded and hugged his boyfriend tightly. They held each other for a long moment, feeling their heartbeats and breaths sync as they curled around each other, breathing each other in. Suddenly, Mickey desperately wanted to go again and pulled back, pushing Ian's chest down lightly with the tips of his fingers. Ian followed the signal and laid back down, a dirty smirk lighting up his face. Mickey reached into the bedside table to withdraw a long string of condoms.

 

"Ooh... Went shopping for my homecoming?" Ian teased. Mickey shrugged and shifted down Ian's body to remove the first condom and immediately replaced it with the next. Ian sighed as Mickey teased him along the way.

 

"Still wanna go slow this round?" Mickey asked, genuinely curious.

 

"Fuck no." Ian growled and pulled Mickey back up his body. Mickey laughed and planted his thighs back on either side of Ian's hips, reached behind him to grip Ian's still stiff erection and plunged down with simultaneous moans.

 

/////

 

It was their final night and things were going about as they had last time... They'd spent this whole visit either at Fiona's house or fucking. Douchebag finally got the hint and stayed his distance from Mickey who, knowing he'd made a point, wasn't as uptight about the guy being in Ian's presence. They spent most of the daytime with family only for Mickey to promptly drag his boyfriend off for private time at 10 o'clock each night. The days flew by and by the seventh night Mickey's chest felt tight again at the thought of saying goodbye. It had already been hard enough the first time, but now going through it again knowing how much it would suck? He was not quick to jump for a replay of the experience.

 

Ian was laying on top of Mickey, holding himself up on his elbows but resting their lower halves together, having just finished their first round of the night. They were absorbing each other with their eyes, memorizing each other.

 

"Fuck, man..." Mickey groaned darkly as he ran his thumb over Ian's cheekbone. 

 

"I know... I don't want to go back either." Ian sighed, dropping his forehead to Mickey's, feeling this almost spiritual connection with him as they lay there taking each other in.

 

"Another seven months..." Mickey murmured mournfully. Ian nodded sadly.

 

"You gonna be okay?" Ian asked gently. Mickey felt his throat tighten in a way that was too fuckin' embarrassing, his eyes stinging, too.

 

"Gonna have to be, huh?" Mickey finally ground out. Ian sighed regretfully and pretended not to see the tear that slid out of one of Mickey's eyes or the way that Mickey quickly wiped it away on the pillow.

 

"Just... Think about what I said, okay? I don't want to rush into anything, but if I can have you with me next time, I'd like to... We can really start thinking about where we want our future to go and shit..." They gazed at each other for a heavy moment, Mickey biting his lip and just soaking up this man's attention and love... and nodded. He'd definitely think about it, though his mind was basically made up and the next seven months would probably only solidify his desire to be connected to Ian in every possible way forever. Though he had a point that it wouldn't exactly be wise to get engaged, much less hitched, right after a big fight like what they'd just had. Ian kissed Mickey deeply and each time he tried to back away, Mickey brought him back in, caging his legs around Ian's hips, spreading them to give Ian a more comfortable place to settle between.

 

"Round two already?" Ian teased against Mickey's lips. Mickey just nodded reaching between Ian's legs to gently coax his dick to full hardness. It didn't take long to get him there and it took no effort at all to position him back at his entrance and push himself down on the tip. They breathed each other's air as they joined again.

 

"Fuck..." They both moaned at the same time. Ian bottomed out quickly and they just stayed connected there for a pregnant moment, gazing into each other's eyes in that sappy way neither ever thought they'd be capable of until now. Mickey bit his lip and lowered Ian's head to the crook of his neck so he could embrace his lover as he started to move. Ian moved slowly but surely, taking him just strong enough that Mickey wouldn't get impatient, but gently enough to match the somber mood they both felt weighing them down. Mickey raised his legs to press against Ian's sides, cradling him as they loved each other and giving them both a new angle to luxuriate in as they thoroughly explored each other for the last time in a long time. Ian's breaths panted out against Mickey's neck as he made love to him and Mickey basked in every second, keeping his arms solidly wrapped around his love. After quite some time Mickey turned his face towards Ian's and kissed him deeply as they moved with each other. Ian took one of Mickey's hands in his own and intertwined their fingers, pressing their joined hands above Mickey's head as he picked up the pace a little. Each thrust pulled a new sound from them both, usually raw and from deep in their chests. Ian broke their kiss to once again tuck his head against the crook of Mickey's neck and Mickey continued caressing Ian's hair, occasionally tugging if Ian hit  a spot inside him just right.

 

"You ready?" Ian murmured. Mickey nodded and Ian reared up so their chests were no longer touching and they could look at each other fully. Ian wrapped a hand around the back of one of Mickey's thighs and shifted so his calf rested on his shoulder, tearing an especially loud moan from Mickey, the feeling so good Mickey threw his head back against the pillow. "You good?" Ian checked once again. 

 

"Go for it, man."  Mickey responded through panted breath. Ian nodded and kicked up the pace, pistoning into Mickey with deep thorough thrusts. Mickey's mouth hung open but could make no sound as he grabbed the sheets and the arm Ian balanced on.

 

"I love you, Mick..." Ian groaned. Mickey's eyes flashed open and he was about to try to reply when Ian thrust especially hard and a satisfied sigh erupted from Mickey. They smiled at each other as they kept working. 

 

"You want me to?" Ian asked but Mickey shook his head. He wanted to see if he could come untouched. 85% of the time he could. There wasn't anything more special about the experience vs either of them jerking him off to finish... it was more for bragging rights. He didn't know if everyone could come untouched like he could but it seemed like a gift. Ian leaned forward just a little bit, stretching Mickey out that bit more. 

 

"Alright..." Mickey warned through gritted teeth. Ian nodded and allowed Mickey's leg to wrap around his lower back so he could kiss Mickey as they came together.

 

Ian pressed his forehead against Mickey's and they breathed each other's air, basking in their own little world of love and devotion. Tension tears dribbled down Mickey's cheeks (or, at least Ian would call them tension tears for Mickey's benefit) as they held each other. Mickey bit his lip and willed the tears to stop but he simply couldn't help it... The thought of Ian leaving him tomorrow was simply too painful. Ian rolled over onto his back and Mickey followed, clinging to him in a very un-Milkovich way. He rest his head on Ian's chest and listened to his steadily slowing heart beat.

 

They didn't speak much the rest of the night because if they spoke too much the conversation would turn sad and neither of them wanted to dwell. They filled the rest of their night memorizing each other's faces, feeling each other's skin just for the sake of feeling it though neither made another sexual advance because it wasn't just the sex they would miss but the simple things, too. Like brushing fingertips over each other or feeling each other's warmth beside them... Feeling that comfort from knowing he's there. They told stupid jokes and reminisced silly memories. They didn't quite dare to talk about the future though it was obvious that both were thinking it... 

 

They didn't sleep much, Ian knowing he could sleep on the flight and Mickey simply being unable to. They were quiet in the car ride to the airport, holding hands at every opportunity until it came time for Ian to get into line for security. Mickey's throat tightened when it finally came time to say goodbye and Rowan, mercifully, went ahead into the line without Ian, giving them their privacy.

 

"I'll call you when I have the chance, alright? And write a letter as soon as I get there." Ian promised, looking earnestly into Mickey's eyes which were admittedly a little red. Mickey just nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, avoiding eye contact now. "Hey..." Ian whispered, reaching for Mickey's cheek. Mickey dodged the touch and Ian's heart sank. "Fuck--c'mon Mick." Ian muttered. Mickey bit his lip hard, fighting his warring emotions. Ian gave him a moment to figure out what to do with himself. A distressed Mickey was a silent and skittish Mickey. 

 

Mickey breathed deep, settling his stomach and his emotions and finally he reached up to wrap his boyfriend in a tight embrace. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's waist, pulling him close. Mickey breathed Ian in one last time before backing away. Ian unwrapped his arms ever so slowly because he too was hesitant to leave him again. He stepped back into Mickey's space and stroked Mickey's face, much like he did on the computer screen, running his fingers through his hair one last time before pressing a soft and quick kiss on his lips. His hand still cupped the base of Mickey's neck as he held him close.

 

"I love you," Ian breathed. It sounded like a vow with how much conviction he packed into those three words. Mickey swallowed hard and finally looked into those green eyes.

 

"I love you too, man." He replied harshly through the emotion clogging his throat.

 

"I'll be fine, okay? And you'll be okay, too. Seven months and we'll start looking into new options. Hopefully this is the last time." Ian promised.

 

"Hopefully... Why doesn't that exactly make me feel better?" Mickey retorted. Ian smirked, fighting an uncomfortable laugh because Mickey was definitely not joking.

 

"It's the best I have for you, Mick. I'm sorry. I'll miss you every day... and no more Rowan on calls. It'll just be me, alright?" Mickey looked into Ian's eyes again and they shared a short moment before Mickey nodded. "I'll call you as soon as I can. I love you so much." Ian breathed in a rush, knowing he had to go. Mickey nodded and kissed him one more time. It was entirely too short, but he knew it was important because it was all he would get for a long time. Ian hugged him one more time and grabbed his duffel at their feet. He had to hustle away, make a quick and clean break or else they'd stand there for an hour saying goodbye. It was early in the morning so the line was short. Just before he reached the security checkpoint, Ian turned around and waved at Mickey with a big goofy smile. Mickey flashed a quick wave and gave his bravest attempt at a smile, though of course it wasn't very full...

 

Mickey stayed at the airport until the departures sign showed that his plane had taken off. It was bullshit that family could no longer see their loved ones off because of stupid security, so watching the departures board was the closest thing. He had a feeling the security guards were looking at him weird but no one said anything. 

 

Driving back home, Mickey tried to pump himself up thinking of what changes were going to come about: he wouldn't have to see Rowan McDouche anymore, Ian would give him his undivided attention from now on, and they would (hopefully) be able to go somewhere together next time. Though it wasn't usually Mickey's style, he knew he had to think positive. In the meantime, he supposed, he'd just have to find more productive ways to occupy his time until his love found his way back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! I hope it is good enough to make the wait worth it! 
> 
> Don't forget to tip your fanfic writer with kudos and comments! :)


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